Lewis Nixon's Young Lady
by fiona1987
Summary: REWRITTEN. I didn't like it so I changed it totally, though it's built on the same idea, just involves more characters this time. "I personally am heading back to Aldbourne to look up a certain young lady". Nixon/OC
1. Chapter 1 CORRECTED

Lewis Nixon's Young Lady part 1

**OKAY, SO I WAS READING THE CHAPTER AGAIN TO TRY AND PLAN THE SECOND ONE AND I REALISED I TOTALLY CHANGED THE NARRATIVE. I STARTED OFF IN THE THIRD PERSON (WHICH IS WHAT I INTENDED, BECAUSE LEWIS WILL SWITCH TO FIRST PERSON WHEN HE STARTS TELLING THE STORY) AND THEN RANDOMLY SWITCHED TO FIRST. OOPS, I THINK I GOT TOO USED TO WRITING IN THE FIRST WITH MY LAST STORY. ANYWAY, HERE IS THE CORRECTED VERSION. I HOPE I HAVEN'T MADE THINGS TOO CONFUSING. THANKS FOR THE NICE REVIEWS, BY THE WAY. NEW CHAPTER TOMORROW HOPEFULLY**

Lewis Nixon's Young Lady Part 1

Note- Okay, I wasn't really happy with the first chapter of the original so I was thinking of a change of format. It's still the story of the girl Lewis met but, instead, this time told him _his_ point of view and involves the girl's granddaughter.

………….

_**1990**_

"Ladies and Gentlemen we are now beginning our descent towards Los Angeles and will be landing in approximately 30 minutes," the Stewardess's voice chirped out over the intercom.

Breathing deeply, Emily sat back in her chair. _Finally_. She felt like she'd been flying for days rather than hours. She could have killed herself for choosing to fly from London to LA direct without a stopover. Part of her thought she was crazy for taking this trip in the first place. Darting around, her eyes laid to rest on the worn leather-bound diary secured safely in the seat pocket in front of her. Her grandmother's diary. Careful not to damage it, she lifted it out and flipped to the last few pages, reading the entry she had read so many times over the last few weeks:

_I can't believe how much my life has changed in the past few months. Washed out and on the verge of self-destruction…and look at me now. I feel like my old self again. And it's all because of Lewis Nixon, the man with his own troubles. Perhaps that what brought us together in the first place, perhaps we were meant to meet on that path to self-destruction, __perhaps__ to help each other. I think I've fallen too hard, though. I'm supposed to be thinking about my own wedding and all I can think about is a married man. It's all pointless anyway, because we'll never be together._

"Lewis Nixon", the name rang over and over in her head as the _Fasten Seatbelts_ sign blinked above her head.

…………………..

"Enjoy your stay in Los Angeles," The Passport Control Officer smiled, giving her a toothy grin that she suspected was anything but genuine. 

"Thank you," She said, taking her passport off of her and putting it in her handbag.

Grasping the handle on her suitcase, she walked out into the LA sunshine. _What am I doing here?_, she muttered to herself. A yellow cab rolled up next to her. She hadn't even noticed She'd joined the queue for a taxi.

"Hey Lady I aint got all day," the driver spat at her from inside the car. "You gettin in or what?"

"What?" She asked, realising what was going on. Hurriedly she opened the door and slid in. "Sorry, yeah."

"Where to?" He asked impatiently.

Reaching into the back pocket of her jeans, she pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and handed it to him. "Here please."

With a screech the taxi sped off. No going back now.

…………………..

Just as written on the paper, the taxi dropped her off outside a large, white sandstone mansion in what seemed to be a respectable neighbourhood.

"This is it?" She asked the driver, nervously.

"33 Maple. That's what it said on that paper," He said, rolling his eyes.

"Thanks for everything," She said dryly, handing him the money and getting out. "Keep the change."

"Wow, 33 cents! You're a Saint," He said sarcastically, speeding away.

Rude taxi drivers were the furthest thing from her mind as she stared at the house. Was this really a good idea? Yes. Yes, she had to know. Slowly she climbed the porch steps and knocked gently on the door. Her stomach filled with butterflies. Shit, maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Turning on her heel, she walked quickly back to the stairs.

"Can I help you?" a woman called out.

Swallowing, she turned around to face her. She was an elegant woman with good posture who, despite being elderly, had a face that still showed glimpses of the beauty it's younger version once had. "Grace?"

"Yes," She said, staring unsurely at me. "Can I help you?"

"My name is Emily Howard, we spoke on the phone," Emily replied.

"Oh yes," She said, smiling and slapping her forehead as if to suggest her forgetfulness. She came forward and offered her a hand. "Grace Nixon. Lovely to meet you. Please come inside."

"I was so sorry to call so out of the blue," Emily apologised as she led her through her deceptively large home.

"Not to worry about it," She replied. "I just hope my husband can provide you with the answers you're looking for."

She led her to a parlour room, with a oak wood table for two with matching chairs set up over a large balcony window. "Why don't you take a seat here. I'll see if my husband feels like talking right now."

"Thank you very much," Emily replied, sitting down on one of the chairs.

As she reached to open the door, she turned back to her. "You should know something. I didn't tell my husband everything that we discussed on the phone. There are certain things he simply wont speak about regarding the…well, that period of his life. Please, don't push too hard."

"I won't," She promised, wondering what _times_ she referred to.

After she left, Emily looked around the impressive room. The Nixons clearly had a lot of money. The room was filled pictures and what looked like memorabilia from all over the world. Next to her, a framed picture of the two of them leaning against what looked like The Great Wall of China was propped up next to some ornate perfume bottles. Above the mantle was a large rifle with gold decoration. Her attention was grabbed by a display case of medals on the wall. She didn't have time to study them in detail, however, as the door opened again. Unsure of the etiquette with a war veteran, she stood up as he walked into the room. He took one look at her, raised his eyebrows and uttered the word "Jesus". He didn't say anything else after that, but he didn't really need to. His face said it all. It was as though he'd unlocked memories that he'd kept stored away for several years. I simply watched as they all came flooding back to him.

His expression steeled over as much as possible as he tried to compose himself after that and gave nothing more away as Grace walked instep with him to the table. Emily's first impression was that he was a very intelligent man, his face giving off a worldly wisdom. Like his wife, his face held faint echoes of good looks. Out of what seemed like affection for her husband, Grace pulled out his chair so that he could sit down opposite her.

"Well," She said, clapping her hands together after her husband was seated. "I'll leave you two to talk. I'll have the maid bring you some lemonade."

When she left an uneasy silence settled over the room. Emily didn't even know where to begin.

"So young lady," he said, filling the silence as he folded his arms to look at her. "Why have you come to see me today."

Nervously, she cleared my throat. "Um…my name is Emily Howard. I believe…I believe you knew someone in my family during the war."

"Oh yes?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"My Grandmother," she explained further, pausing before revealing her name. "Her name was…."

"Violet," He finished for her.

"You know?" Emily asked.

"You look just like her," He mused, looking at her intently. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

"All the time," she admitted, smiling faintly at him.

"So, that answers who you are," He said, scratching his head. "But not why you are here."

"I just have a few questions," she told him.

"Mmm hmmm," He nodded, trying to appear nonchalant. "And why couldn't you ask those questions to your Grandmother herself."

"Well she's dead," she told him bluntly. Perhaps too bluntly, as eyes sprang open in shock for a few seconds. She tried to smooth it over. "A few weeks ago."

"I'm sorry," He said simply, looking away.

"I'm sorry too. I wish I'd known her better. I was always too wrapped up in things to really get to know her, I suppose," She told him regretfully. "When she died, my mother and I were tidying up things in her house and I came across something."

"And what was that?"

"This," She said, reaching into her bag and pulling out the diary. Opening it to the last entries, she placed it in front of him.

Pulling a set of wire spectacles from his shirt pocket and placing them on, he began to read. He paused for a few seconds after reading and looked at her expectantly.

"Um…as you can see, a lot of the previous pages have been ripped out and I was just wondering if you might able to tell me…."

He slammed the book down on the table and stood up. She jumped.

"I don't talk about what happened during the war," He said, storming out of the room.

………………….

"Should I go?" Emily asked, walking into the kitchen and finding Grace reading a newspaper.

"No, Dear," She said, looking up at her. "He just needs some time. His heartstrings have just been pulled at, that's all."

"I really am sorry," She said, sitting down as Grace pulled out a chair for her. "It's very rude of me to come here and ask your husband questions about a relationship from his past."

"Not at all, my Dear," She patted Emily's shoulder. "That was a lifetime ago. Everyone has a past. I know _I_ certainly have."

Emily smiled at her.

"If I may ask," Grace said, leaning closer to her. "What kind of woman was she? Your Grandmother, I mean."

"Honestly? I'm not sure," Emily said, shrugging her shoulders. "I never really took the time to get to know her. Properly get to know her, you know? I wish I had, though."

Grace squeezed her hand, supportively. "Well, I hope Lewis can help you out. I can see how eager you are, what with all those phone calls you had to make to trace us."

…………………..

Emily pushed open the door out onto the patio in the back garden. Lewis Nixon sat, staring out into the vast yard.

"Sir?" she asked, taking a seat next to him. "I'm sorry if I was forceful earlier."

He scratched his head, as though trying to fathom something. "You live in England, yet you flew all the way from there to LA to ask me about your Grandmother?"

"I actually live in New York," she corrected him. "I work there. However, you're right. I flew from England to come here."

"And that diary entry piqued your curiosity enough to make you do that?" He asked, unconvinced.

"Partly," she said, looking down. "There may be some personal motivations behind my decision, but I shan't bore you with that."

He tutted.

"Look, Sir," she said, raising her voice. "I used all of the money I was saving for my hen night to fly out here to ask you a few simple questions. I _really_ don't think I'm asking too much for you to give me the answers."

"Wow, you're a lot like your Grandmother," His eyes lit up, amused. "What the hell's a hen night?"

"Uh…a Bachelorette party," she laughed, translating it into American-speak for him.

"Oh, okay," He nodded. He sighed, folded his arms and looked at her. "Well I suppose since you came all this way…. What do you want to know?"

"God," she breathed. "Whatever you can tell me. How you met each other, for a start. What happened between the two of you that made her rip pages from her diary? Also, why you never ended up together, which you clearly didn't."

He let out a small chuckle. "The whole story, then?"

"More or less,"

"Okay then, Miss," He said, shifting into a more comfortable position in his chair. "This is how I met your Grandmother…"


	2. Chapter 2

Lewis Nixon's Young Lady- Chapter 2

NOTE- Okay, I've finally updated this story haha. My original plan was to finish "How Far Would You Go For Your Country?" first and then go onto this, but I just got so busy with studies that it was taking too long lol. Anyway, hope you enjoy : )

…………………………….

_**July 11**__**th**__**, 1944- Aldbourne, England.**_

_There I was, on a truck convoy back into Aldbourne, the town we'd set off from in the first place. The excited chatter amongst the men indicated an excitement to be back after our spell in France…but not for me. Sure, it was a lovely place and the townsfolk were pleasant enough, but…what a place to forget there was a war on. The mood was always upbeat, happy, as if normality had resumed when it hadn't. _

"_Not looking forward to a little down time, Nix?" Dick said from beside me, almost yelling over the sound of the roaring vans. _

_I didn't respond, I just nodded along, looking out to the side at the rolling countryside. What a tranquil place. Too much time in a tranquil place, for me, meant too much time to lament on things I didn't particularly want to lament on. Like my state of affairs back home._

Still, it wasn't all bad, I thought to myself as I licked my parched lips. I couldn't overlook one important fact. The fact that the United Kingdom was, of course, the birthplace of one of my best friends…VAT 69. A friend whose last bottle I'd drunk down about two weeks earlier. I sensed it was time to get reacquainted.

……………………_._

_That's exactly what I did. That night, I found myself walking into the familiar establishment of the Admiral's Arms, a quintessentially British pub that somehow seemed to squeeze in everyone in the town on any given night. A social hub. As I walked in, I could see that several of the boys had already found their way there, already enjoying the local bitters and the local ladies. _

"_Evening, Captain Nixon," Webster said, raising his glass to me as I walked past._

"_Evening," I replied, en route to the bar. When I got there, I smiled at the familiar face before me. Placing my hands along the rail of the bar, I announced loudly. "Good Evening, Harold."_

The portly older man turned around, and threw the dishcloth he was holding over his shoulder. "Well look who it is, my best customer. The wanderer returns I see, unscathed."

"And long may it stay that way," I joked, reaching out and shaking his hand.

"_Good to see you again," He smiled heartily, his warmth shining through. "I trust you gave Jerry a good seeing to?"_

"You can count on that," I smiled, rubbing my hands together as I cast an eye over the various bottles lining the cabinets behind the bar. "Hmm, I think I'll go for…"

"Vat 69?" He said monotonously, staring at me amusedly. He'd heard this time and time again before. 

"_That's the one," I clicked my fingers._

"_Should I order a case for you from the suppliers again?" _

"_Better make that two this time," I advised. "I don't know how long we'll be away next time."_

"Right-o," he said, turning to fetch my drink. 

_Breathing deeply, I leaned forward against the bar counter, whistling to myself as I looked around. The whistling ground to a halt as my eyes rested on the girl behind the counter further down the bar. A very different whistle came out from my lips as I watched her, brown, braided hair and soft-looking skin. She was beautiful, but that wasn't what I was most drawn to. It was her eyes. The colour of sparkling emeralds, yet vacant, exhausted. I couldn't tell what she was thinking, but she was clearly miles away. I couldn't recall her face from when we'd last been in Aldbourne. It was one I'm sure I wouldn't have forgotten easily. Feeling compelled, I leaned a little closer towards her. _

"_Hi there," I said, giving her a friendly nod. _

_She shook as she seemed to come back to earth. She looked over in my direction. "I'm sorry, what?"_

"I was just saying hello," I nodded again, smiling amicably and joking. "You were looking a little too sad for my liking in this good atmosphere. Jeez, who died?"

Jaw dropping slightly, her eyes narrowed at me. Clamping her lips shut, she turned on her heel and hurried through a door into the back storeroom. Shit.

"_There's your VAT 69," Harold said, returning and putting a glass down in front of me. _

_I leaned in. "Harold, who was that girl who just went into the back there?"_

He looked around. "Oh, that's my niece."

"She works here?"

"Yes, I told her mother I'd give her a few shifts a week to…," he paused, choosing his words carefully. "Take her mind off of things."

I was about to ask exactly what these "things" were, but a call from a thirsty Private called Harold's attention elsewhere. Picking up my glass and taking a first delicious sip, I made my way through the crowds, finding an empty table at the back.

………_._

_Over the next few hours, I caught up with my old friend, the VAT 69, slowly filling up the table with empty glasses. As I drank, I found myself listening to the conversations around me as I stared into the roaring fire in the hearth, only interrupted when I heard glasses clinking. It was that same girl from the bar. I sat up straight in my chair as she approached my table with her glass collection tray._

"_Hi again," I said politely, surprised at how bashful I felt around this woman, an emotion I wasn't used to. _

_She didn't say anything in response as she began to stack my empty glasses into her tray._

"_I'm sorry if I upset you with what I said earlier…it was an accident if I did," I apologised._

_She raised her eyes slightly in response, her hands never stopping reaching for the glasses._

"_I'm Lewis," I persisted. "Lewis Nixon. What's your name?"_

"What's it to you?" she asked quietly, not looking me in the eye.

_Slightly taken aback and offended, I coughed. "Nothin', I guess…I was just being polite."_

She looked over at me, her face softening as she momentarily stopped working. "I'm sorry."

"That's alright."

"I'm Violet," she told me.

_It was at this point that Sergeant Bill Guarnere, in the throws of celebrating a particularly good darts score, jumped back and, in one swift move, knocked into her, sending her flying in my general direction. Acting quickly and seemingly unaffected by the amount I'd consumed by this point, I quickly jumped forward and caught her as she fell into my lap. A short silence followed._

"_Not a shrinking one then…," I joked._

_Quickly, she jumped back up to her feet, her face scarlet with embarrassment. _

"_I'm sorry, Miss," Bill said quickly, putting a hand on her arm. "I didn't mean to do that."_

Her eyes darting around, she snatched up her tray and hurried off. I watched her go, scratching my head.

"_I s'pose that wasn't too smooth of me, huh Captain?" Bill said sheepishly._

"_Not really, Bill," I said, offering him a sympathetic smile._

…………………………_.._

**1990- Nixon Mansion**

"And I never saw her again for the rest of that night," Lewis said, leaning back in his chair.

"Wow," Emily breathed. "I never had Grandma down as shy, I'll tell you that."

"No?" Lew asked, amused.

"Not at all," she laughed. "Trust me, Grandma could hold her own."

Lewis laughed fondly. He began to cough, reaching forward for his glass and taking a long drink of water. He sat back in his chair, looking out of the window. "Goodness, look. It's gotten dark outside."

"I had no idea," Emily said, surprised. "I got so lost in the story."

"Well, my dear," he continued. "I'm afraid I'm too tired to go on anymore."

Her face fell.

"How about you come back here tomorrow for lunch and I'll continue," he offered.

"Really?" she asked. "I'd really appreciate that, Sir."

"Then it's settled," he stretched in his chair. "Now then, I'm starving. How would you like to stay for supper tonight."

Emily stifled a yawn, just realising how tired she was. "That's a very nice offer, but I'm so tired after the long flight. I think I'm just going to head to my hotel and get some sleep."

He blinked at her. "You mean you came all the way here straight from the airport."

She nodded sheepishly, indicating to her suitcase in the corner of the room.

"Well now," he chuckled. "That's dedication. I'll have to be sure to tell this story _extra_ well, then. Come on, let's call you a cab."

…………………….

Happy to have reached her hotel, she quickly checked in and found her room, choosing immediately to take a long soak in a tub. Slinking further into the bubbles, she let her mind wander, thinking about what a nice man Lewis Nixon had turned out to be. She hadn't known what she'd expected him to be, but was pleasantly surprised with the results. She was thoroughly enjoying his story as well as, not only did it help her understand her grandmother's diary, but it also took her mind off her own personal problems. It was those very problems that she was considering when the phone rang out, interrupting her thoughts. Toying with the idea of not answering it, she relented and reached over to grab the in-bathroom receiver.

"Hello," she said, tentatively.

"Sweetie?" a voice came over the other end.

She swallowed nervously. "Hi honey, how's it going?"

"I'm alright," she said awkwardly. "How are you?"

"I'm…fine. Um…how was your flight?"

"Long…," she breathed.

"So…did you find your grandmother's friend?" he asked.

"Yeah, I met him,"

"And how was he?"

"He was…nice," she said, biting her lip.

They were silent for a few seconds.

"I was thinking," he said, breaking the silence. "If you want to postpone the wedding for a little while that would be fine by me?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, sitting up slowly in the bath.

"Well, it's just…I know how much your grandmother meant to you and maybe you should take some time off to grieve properly without having the stress of planning a wedding making everything harder for you," he explained.

"No, that's really not necessary," she shook her head.

"Sure?" he asked, sounding concerned.

"Yes," she nodded firmly, as though thinking he could see it. "Honey I know I've been stressed recently but… everything'll be alright, I promise."

"Okay," he said, trying to sound cheerful. "Well then, you just do what you have to do there and get back to New York and back to me. I miss you. Do you miss me?"

She paused for a minute, her heart dropping. "…of course I do."

"Okay then, sleep well, Sweetie," he said, sighing as though he was exhausted.

"Goodnight, Mark," she said, and hung up the receiver.

Feeling as though she had a ten-tonne weight on her shoulder, she climbed out of the bath. Sitting in front of the mirror, she began to brush her wet hair. She couldn't bring herself to stare back at her reflection. She couldn't stand feeling this way. She was about to marry her boyfriend of five year, why was she so upset. Well, she _knew_ why, but it didn't stop her feeling guilty about it. Suddenly a sharp knock came at the door. Snapping out of her misery, she quickly put on one of the hotel robes, and tiptoed to the door.

"Hello," she said, opening it. She gasped when she saw who it was, when she saw the tall, handsome dark-haired man staring back at her, looking jetlagged and desperate. Her heart began to thump in her chest and her body tingled. "Jack? What are you doing here?"

"I found hotel and flight details lying on your mum's coffee table," he said, breathlessly, his coiffed English accent coming over with notes of desperation. Suddenly, he looked embarrassed, as though realising he might have made a mistake in his assumptions. "I thought…I thought you might have been hinting at me to follow you."

Her heart soared, she gave him a small smile. "That was a mistake. I didn't actually mean to leave those out."

"Oh," his face fell.

"But you came all this way…for me?" she asked, ushering him into the room and closing the door behind him.

"I know you said it was a mistake and never should have happened," he said, rushing his words as though he was trying to get everything out at once. "But those few weeks you were back in Aldbourne just made me realise…I don't want to lose you…not again."


	3. Chapter 3

**Lewis Nixon's Young Lady- Chapter 3**

**Note- haha, I was just re-reading this chapter before posting and I didn't realise how cheesy it was. If you think it's too cheesy then let me know and I can re-write it with less fromage : p. **

…………….

The next morning, Emily opened her eyes, yawning. The sun shone through the hotel room, basking everything with a golden glow. She looked over at Jack sleeping beside her, his chest rising and falling in a perfect rhythm. Nothing had happened between them, they'd just lain together, looking at each other contentedly. Just looking at him now, the first man she'd ever loved, sent tingles down her spine. Still, the nagging thought of her fiancé waiting for her in New York tugged at her heartstrings. Forcing her gaze away, she looked at the alarm clock lying on the cabinet just behind him. 11.00 a.m. She had to be at the Nixon mansion for 12.30. Careful not to wake him, jetlagged though he was, she rose and made her way to the shower.

………………

Arriving on time, awaiting Emily was a table on the balcony overlooking the Nixon's vast backyard. On the table lay a banquet fit for a king. The Nixons clearly did nothing in half measures.

"This is delicious," she complimented the old man, raising another forkful to her lips.

"Do you like it?" his eyes glowed happily. "It's _Ossibuchi alla toscana. _Grace and I were traveling around Tuscany in Italy many years ago, and we just fell in love with the food there."

"I've always wanted to go to Italy," she admitted. "I always wanted to travel, like you and Grace did. Well, I presume you did, from all of the keepsakes around."

"We did," he nodded. "And you should, too."

"I suppose I've just devoted a lot of time to building my career,"

"And what is it that you do?"

"I'm a journalist," she said proudly, shaking her head slightly. "Well, an aspiring one anyway. I left London to study journalism in New York, at Columbia."

"Ivy League," he said appreciatively.

"Spoken like a man that knows," she joked.

"I was a Yale man," he told her. "So an aspiring journalist, you say?"

"I'm currently a junior proof reader for one of the lesser-known papers. It's not much, but it's a foot in the ladder, I suppose," she said, slightly deflated.

"Well we all have to start somewhere. The only way to go is up," he smiled at her, leaning forward in his chair, interested. "If I may ask…what profession did your grandmother devote herself to?"

"She was a florist by trade, all of her life until she decided to become a full time housewife for my mother and uncle in the 1950s," Emily replied.

"As I suspected," he leaned back in his chair again, satisfied. "It was that very profession she was in when I met her myself, aside from doing shifts in the bar."

"Ah yes, she was an apprentice around the time, I believe," Emily said, trying to think whether she had her facts right or not.

"Yes," Lewis mused. "That was actually where I met her again after that embarassing incident in the Admiral's Arms, which brings me back to my story…"

………………………….

**July 13****th****, 1944- Aldbourne**

_After meeting her in the Admiral's Arms that night, I couldn't stop thinking about Violet. Sure, I had a wife back home and should have felt guilty, but she had ceased writing to me, and I doubted very much whether she actually still felt any love inside herself for me anymore. But with this girl it was different. She provoked feelings inside me that I'd never experienced with anyone else up to that point, that's right…no one. I couldn't fully explain it, only attempt to. Perhaps it was that aura she carried around with her, as though under that beautiful exterior lay much sadness and pain. I almost felt as though I could empathise with her. However, since the incident with Bill, she'd stopped showing up at the pub. Curiously, I'd questioned Harold further about her, which had provoked a venomous outburst from the normally cheery barkeep. _

_  
"You needn't be knowing anything else about that girl, lad," he'd said. "None of your business, she is."_

Clearly he'd hoped this would ward me off of her. It didn't. It merely spurred me on to find out more about her. Casually, I spread the feelers out amongst the men, who covered every inch of Aldbourne on a daily basis. It was a small place and I was confident a result would turn up. Which it did that very morning. I was dozing in my bed, finding it hard as usual to get up in the morning, when Dick- that's my old army friend Major, Captain at the time, Dick Winters- woke me from my slumber with a sharp yet playful slap to the side of the face. 

"_Do you know what time it is?" He asked_

_Blearily I rubbed at my eyes as I sat up. "Time to get up apparently."_

_Ignoring my comment, he pressed on. "I found something for you."  
"Where is she?" I asked, instinctively. _

"_Are you sure you want to open up this door, Nix?" he asked, using that voice he used amongst the men sometimes that secretly drove me crazy. I knew what he was getting at, the fact that I was married. "Maybe you should just leave it."_

"_Dick," I replied pointedly, my expression saying it all._

_  
"She works in a florists just behind the local Church," he said simply. _

_I raised my eyes, letting out a chuckle as I uttered sarcastically. "Floristry, huh? Now there's a booming wartime industry. Still, I suppose it adds to that sweet, virginal image."_

"You're all heart, Nix," Dick said, rolling his eyes as he gave me an amused half-smile as he reasoned. "I don't know, I suppose it has a boost whilst we're here, what with the boys buying flowers for their new-found sweethearts."

"_Okay," I said, springing into life. "I should get going. Places to go, people to meet, you know."_

"Nix," Dick said, warningly grabbing at my arm as I made my way to the restroom. "Be Careful."

………………………_.._

_With my uniform as coiffed as I could make it, I peered at the heading above the door. "Fancy Flowers"…this had to be it. Tentatively, I pushed open the door, activating the ringing of a small bell as I did so. Walking past large stacks of flowers in every colour and size imaginable, I beheld kerchiefed lady standing with her back to me. Straightening my collar once more, I let out an introductory cough and stepped towards her._

"_Well hello there again. How nice it is to see such a pretty face again," I said, cockily._

_She turned around…revealing not Violet, but rather a comparatively older women, with a far less fairer face, truth be told._

"Hi there, handsome," she joked, laughing in delight at my taken-aback expression. 

"_I'm sorry," I said, scratching my cheek. "I was looking for another girl that works here…Violet?"_

"And what do you want with Violet?" the old woman asked, clearly though she already had a fair idea.

"Well…you know," I said, my cheeks turning a slight pink with embarassment.

_She chuckled. "You American soldiers. Every girl is fair game, isn't she. Well I can assure you, my boy, that Violet's one flower whose seed you won't be fertilisin'."_

"I just wanted to talk to her, ma'am," I retorted, defensively. 

_She raised her eyes, still amused. "Very well. Oh Violet!"_

_Suddenly a rustling noise emerged from the back and out emerged the girl herself, her brown hair hanging loose over her shoulders this time, her eyes equally as sparkly. She raised them wide when she saw me. _

"_Hello there," I said, nodding my head politely at her. _

_The old woman laughed again lightly as she picked up her watering can and making for the door to water the outside display flowers, brushing up against my ear as she passed me. "Good luck, sonny. You'll need it."_

I watched her bemusedly as she left then, when she was gone, looked back at Violet, who by this point had awkwardly busied herself by arranging some flowers in a nearby vase."

"Can I help you with something?" she asked tensely

"_I…I just wanted to apologise for what happened the other night, that soldier knocking you over like that and my joke…it was inappropriate and I apologise," I explained, stepping closer to the counter. _

"_That's alright," she shook her head, still not looking me in the eye. "I've already forgotten about it."_

I reeled a little. "Oh, okay."

"Was there anything else I could do for you?" she asked, looking up at me for the first time, her eyes still an abyss of torment. "Were you looking for flowers for someone?"

"Perhaps," I said, following the flow of the conversation. I stepped up to a nearby bucket containing small pastel-pink buds. "I like these. Very romantic-looking, the kind I suppose you would give to a pretty lady."

Ignoring my obvious underlying meaning, she simply explained. "Those are called Sweetrbrier."

"_Sweetbrier?" I repeated._

"_Yes," she looked down. "And they are actually symbolic of having a wound that needs to heal, not romance."_

"Oh," I said, hoping I hadn't dredged up some bad memories for her. Tentatively I made my move. "And what does the Violet represent? Perhaps you could tell me over dinner…tonight, perhaps."

She reeled. "Are you asking me out romantically?"

"Well…," I said, not expecting such an upfront question.

_Her eyes flared with anger. "I'll have you know that I'm spoken for."_

"Oh," I said, not expecting that revelation. "I am too, you see."

"Then shame on you," she spurned me further. "You shouldn't even be here!"

"_I'm sorry, I…," I was quick to assure her, wanting anything other than to upset her further. _

_On the verge of tears, she spun on her heel and made for the back room once more, stopping to face me one last time. "Oh, and to answer your questions- the blue violet, my favourite flower, actually represents faithfulness."_

With that, she flounced out of the room.

_Dejected, I stood on the spot for a few seconds. That didn't go well. With a deep sigh, I opened to door and stepped outside of the shop._

"_I did warn you," The old woman said, drizzling her watering can above some posies. _

"_You heard everything?"_

"Unfortunately this is the thickest glass I could afford for my shop," she tried to joke, sensing my deflated spirit. 

"_She really gave it to me, I'll tell you that," I said, reaching inside my pocket for my cigarette packing, finding one and lighting it immediately._

"_It's not her fault,"_

"Not her fault, just bad luck that she's spoken for," I sighed. "Married, is she?"

"Engaged," she explained. "Well, sort of…"

"Sort of?" I pressed.

"_Well she's engaged to a lovely man, Gerald. He was her childhood sweetheart and he proposed to her the night he went off to join the RAF as a trainee pilot. That was just before the Battle of Britain, so a few years ago now."_

"And...?" I urged her to continue.

"Well, lord knows why I'm telling you this…," she said to herself as though she were foolish.

_Wanting to hear more, I offered her a cigarette, which she willingly accepted as I lit it for her._

"Mercy," she said to herself, taking a puff. 

_  
"Anyway, you were saying?"_

"Oh, yes. Well, when he first went, the letter came fast and often. Once a week, in fact, sometimes more. She was so happy, so very happy."

"Yeah, yeah, madly in love I get it," I rolled my eyes, wild with jealousy.

"_Well then they suddenly stopped coming. No letters for a year now," she said, her face sad in recollection._

_  
"You mean he's…?" I asked, indicating suggestively._

_  
"Well, that's the obvious conclusion. The thing is, no one around here seems willing to believe it, least of all her and their parents. He was regarded very highly by everyone here in Aldbourne, his father is a very powerful and revered man in this town," she said._

"_Well, he might not be dead," I considered, imagining the grief she must be going through. "Captured, perhaps?"_

"Neither are appealing prospects," the old woman continued, equally continuing to puff on the cigarette. "I tend to disbelieve that he's alive, however. Perhaps it's just the skeptic in me talking. Anyway, my point is son, whether her betrothed is alive or not, to her he very much is….so you have as much chance as…well…you get the idea."

I shrugged, an idea coming to my head. "Perhaps. Listen, do you know about the symbolism of flowers? She seemed to be quite interested in it back there."

"Floriography?" she asked. "But of course, I taught that girl everything she knows."

"_Then perhaps you could help me?" I asked hopefully, offering her a charming, All-American smile._

"_And what's in it for me?" she asked interestedly. _

"_Umm," I searched my person. "The rest of my cigarettes?"_

………………….

_That night, when the shop was closed, I tiptoed back, a bunch of white flowers in my hand. Bending in front of the door, I laid them on the ground and next to it I placed the note I'd written earlier:_

"_White Tulips mean forgiveness. Can you forgive me? Lewis Nixon."_

………………………………

**1992**

"Oh, Lewis, you charmer," Emily teased, leaning forward to pat the old man's hand affectionately. "You said I was determined, but my, my you were something else. You were determined to get my grandmother in the end, weren't you?"

"What can I say," he said, devilish glint in his eye. "I was a determined sorta guy back then."

"I can see that," she suppressed a giggle. "Although I think I see now how this story clearly ends."

"Yes," he said, his eyes glossing over reminiscently.

They took a few seconds, considering this silently on our own when the noise of a ringing from my handbag broke the quiet. Reaching inside, she pulled out my mobile telephone, opening the flap to see who was phoning her. Seeing that it was Mark, she cancelled the call, her heart encapsulating with guilt. Lewis seemed to sense this.

"Not a good friend?" he asked, trying to keep it light.

"No a very good friend," she corrected him. "A very good friend. Well, more than a friend. Much, much more, yet…it's a long story."

"Well," he said, thoughtfully, this time reaching forward to pat _her_ hand sympathetically. "Perhaps when I've finished with my story you will share yours with me."


	4. Chapter 4

Lewis Nixon's Young Lady- Chapter 4

………………

**1992- Nixon Mansion**

Emily leaned back in her deck chair, her stomach happily full from the Italian banquet lunch the Nixons had put on for her. She stared out at the garden, watching the sprinklers drenching the vast lawn. Yawning, she looked over at Lewis, who stood against the veranda railings, watching the same sight as her but with his back facing her.

"So," she cut through the silence of the summer's day. "When you learned that she had a fiancé did it not make you consider backing off?"

"Not overly," he said, still not turning round to look at her. "I know that sounds bad, but it was just a different time, you see."

"A different time?" she echoed.

"Well," he paused for a second, choosing his words. "When you know you're training to go into situation where you might die at any moment, you don't tend to give issues such as fidelity any extra special thought. I was infatuated with your grandmother."

Emily scratched her forehead. "You know, given that I know how the story finds ends, I shouldn't be charmed by that statement…but I am. It's sort of sweet, in a way."

He turned around and offered her a half smile before turning back.

Pulling herself up onto her feet, she walked over to the veranda beside him, leaning her forearms on the rails. "So, did she like the flowers you left her."

"Well," his eyes glazed over. "What happened the next day was…"

……………….

**July 14****th****, 1944- Aldbourne.**

_I didn't hear anything from Violet about the flowers the next day. I didn't want to go back to the florists… space is always best when trying to get someone's forgiveness. You have to wait for them to come to you. It wouldn't be long before I'd see her again, however, as the when I made my way to the "Generous General" the next evening, the first thing I saw her was her back behind the bar, her hair tied back in a loose chignon, her eyes as green as ever. I stood at the door, watching her wiping the counter with a dish towel with one hand, the other brushing the hair that fell in front of her eyes behind her ear. One of the privates emitted a large whooping noise from somewhere nearby, a celebration of a darts throw or something. Either way, it drew her attention to the door, and her eyes softened ever so slightly as she saw me. I didn't attempt to approach her, merely offered a polite smile, a nod and a wave as I made my way over to my usual chair. I sat for about ten minutes enjoying the warmth coming from the fire, when suddenly a glass appeared on the table in front of me. _

"_Compliments from my uncle at the bar," Violet said, her soft voice breaking my thoughts. "Apparently he spoke rather harshly to you the other day."_

"_No hard feelings," I replied, taking the glass of VAT 69 appreciatively. "I think I warranted his harsh words."_

"Getting on everyone's bad side, aren't you," she remarked, still standing in front of me.

_  
"It's not intentional, believe me," I raised my eyebrows. "…did you like the flowers?"_

"_They were nice," she stated. "Word to the wise though, flowers aren't the way to get forgiveness from a florist…you wouldn't give baker a bread roll would you?"_

"So what are you saying? I should have sent flowers? Jewellery?" I asked playfully.

"_At least," she said, giving a vague hint of a playful smile. "But thank you anyway for the gesture."_

"My pleasure," I looked dolefully at her. "I really didn't mean to offend you by asking you to dinner."

"Why did you ask me then?" she asked sternly. "You have a wife."

Taken aback, I stuttered. "It's not…. It's just…. You wouldn't understand."

She paused for a second and then slowly pulled back the empty chair at the table and sat down in front of me. "What wouldn't I understand?"

"It's complicated, my home life that is. When I saw you for the first time one of the first things I noticed was that you looked…well…like you could use someone to talk to…just like I could use someone to talk to," I said, feeling entirely uncomfortable with this display of emotion, unsure of how genuine I was being. Either way, something about her captivated me and made me say these things.

"_Oh," she said, a little surprised. She swallowed deeply and looked down into her lap for a brief moment before looking back at me. "You thought I looked sad?"_

I nodded. "Very much so."

"_Well I…," she began, taking a deep breath as though she were about to relay a big revelation, but stopped. "Well this really isn't the place."_

"I understand," I said, holding my hands up in acceptance.

"_I should really get back to work," she said, standing up. "Before my uncle gives me any more stares back at the bar."  
_

"_Will you be here tomorrow?" I asked, nonchalantly. _

_She stifled a smile. "No."_

"Oh yeah, why's that?" I asked, sipping casually.

"_None of your business," she joked. _

…………………………

**1992**

"My grandma sounds like she had a feisty side back then," Emily joked, fidgeting around in her chair.

"That would be telling, my dear," Lewis' eyes twinkled back at her.

"So when did you see her again?"

…………………………….

_**July 15**__**th**__**, 1944**_

_I went back to the pub the following night. I knew she wouldn't be there but what else was I going to do with my time. Clearly she was on my mind though as, a few glasses of VAT 69 later, I found myself absent-mindedly wandering around Aldbourne and, without realising, I walked past the florist shop. I did a double take when I saw that it was lit up. The curtains were all drawn and I couldn't see in side, but it was definitely lit up. Now, maybe it was the VAT 69 talking, but part of me worried that the shop might be being looted or burgled. I know, I know, it's stupid to think someone might be stealing flowers, but I did mention to you that I'd been drinking a little_. _Tentatively, I wandered up to the front window, trying to peer behind the curtains but I couldn't see a thing. With the dutch courage, I was able to go up and give a little knock on the door. I heard movement inside. Definitely heard movement. I knocked again._

"Hey, who's in there?" I called through the glass. 

"…_Lewis?" came the reply on the other end. "Lewis is that you?"_

"Yes…," I replied. "Violet?"

"Yes…," 

"_Um…what are you doing? It's 9 p.m.!"_

"I am aware of that, thank you," came her dry reply. "I'm working."  
"Working?" I echoed. "Making bouquets?"

"Yes!" Her stressed voiced bounced back. "The Church fete is tomorrow and we're doing the flowers. I'm currently very behind and getting increasingly stressed. 

_I couldn't help laughing. Her English accent sounded so cute all stressed. _

"_Are you laughing at me, Lewis?" she challenged._

"_No," I said, stifling a giggle. "Um…can I help?"_

"Help?" She repeated back. "Can you help me?"

"That's what I said."

"Are you a florist?"

"Not last time I checked, no," I replied, matching her sarcasm.

"_So do you think you can help me?"_

"Well," I shrugged my shoulder. "I think I'm all you've got right now."

"Aaargh," I heard her wail from inside, then slowly unlock the door. "Fine, alright. Come in."

She opened the door to face me. I broke into a smile at what stood before me. Her hair was dishevelled, tied into a loose chignon, but best of all there were little bits of plant and flowers stuck throughout.

"_What? What's so funny?" She asked exhaustedly. She obviously had no idea._

"Nothing," I said, entering as she ushered me inside. 

"_Okaaay," she sat down amid piles of categorised flowers, patting the ground. "Take a seat. "What we're doing is taking two of these pink ones, just two! Adding two of the white ones and then two of the yellows. Then we tie them together with some of this ribbon and level the stems."_

"Sounds simple enough," I said, nodding. "I can do that. How many do you have to make?"

"100," 

_  
"And you've made how many so far?"_

"10…," 

_My eyes bulged. I sighed deeply and took off my jacket. "Right…."_

………………..

"_Is this okay?" I asked, holding it up to show her. _

"_It'll do," she replied, giving me a bit of an enthusiastic but sympathetic smile. _

"_So why have you been stuck doing this?" I asked, making conversation._

"_Perhaps because we're the only florist in town," she smiled sarcastically. "And also my future father-in-law is the reverend of the local church."_

"Oh," I nodded, clucking my tongue. "Keeping up with the in-laws."

"Something like that," she laughed. 

"_Do they like you then," I quizzed._

"_I'd hope so," she nodded. "I've known them long enough!" _

"_How long have you been with him, exactly?" _

"_Well I've known him all my life, but we've been courting for about 5 years or so," she explained._

"_That's a…long time," I said, feigning a gasp. "You must be getting bored of it."_

"Lewis," she said warningly, raising an eyebrow at me but offering me a little amused smile.

"_Sorry, sorry," I held my hands up defencelessly. _

"_Go on then," she smiled, reaching for the white flowers. "Tell me about Mrs Nixon."_

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. "Nothing to say there really." 

"_Liar," she said, playfully throwing a cropped stem at me._

"_Hey!" I cried, picking it up and throwing it back at her. "Classic story really. Met her in college then after we graduated we got married. Lived together in matrimony for a while. I enlisted and took off."_

"Golly," she said sarcastically. "You make it sound so romantic."

"Well it's not really," I said, laying myself bare. "Before I left…we fought, barely made love, flirted with other people…and we never write to each other. I'm not an idiot, she doesn't love me. I guess that's why I don't feel so guilty for being attracted to you."

"_Wow," she said, gently setting down the bouquet she'd half-prepared. "I'm sorry, Lewis. I shouldn't have asked."_

"It's fine," I smiled.

"_Um...," she said, looking to relieve the tension. "We keep a bottle of whiskey in the back. Fancy a nightcap?"_

"Is it VAT 69?" I asked hopefully. 

"_Sorry," she said, reaching for the bottle and looking at the label. "Looks like a Scottish distillery."_

"_Oh well," I said. "I'll take one for the team, anyway."_

"I'll get some glasses."

………………

**1990- Nixon Mansion**

"Uh oh, alcohol," Emily raised her eyebrows. "Never good to add alcohol to the equation.

"Lewis tutted. "Honestly, you young people these days. Always thinking the smuttiest things."

She leaned forward in her chair, looking him squarely in the eyes. "You're telling me _nothing_ happened?"

"Yes, _nothing_ happened," Lewis promised, then coughed. "Well…"

"I knew it!" She burst out laughing.

"We spoke all night, is all," he corrected her. "We finished the flowers, drinking and we spoke all night."

"Spoke about what?"

"Everything under the sun. You name it, we talked about it: music, movies, pastimes, family…everything,"

"Aah," Emily, put a hand over her heart. "The _getting-to-know-each-other _nights. I love those."

"But the next day," he continued. "We hit a bit of a snag."

"A snag?" she asked curiously.

"Let's just say we were tired after talking and drinking…and we fell asleep then and there in the florists," he explained.

"Why is that a snag?"

"Well…we were awoken the next day by the sight of her fiance's father, the town reverend, staring down at us," he explained.

"Uh oh," Emily grimaced. "What did he say?"

………………………..

_**July 16**__**th**__**, 1994- Aldbourne**_

"_Ahem," the sound of a throat clearing woke us up. _

_Groggily, I looked up to see a reverend staring back at me, looking quite shaken and suddenly angry. Suddenly, I felt Violet spring into life next to me, gasping as she stood up, panicked._

"Morning, Violet," he said, sternly.

_Tired, I pulled myself to my feet and held out a hand to him. "Captain Lewis Nixon."_

"Reverend Thomson," he said, shaking my head tensely and eyeing me up and down. 

"_This is my fiance's father," Violet explained in a quiet, mousey voice._

"_Oh," I straightened up, remembering what she'd told me last night. "Nice to meet you, Sir. I was just helping Violet here out with the flowers. Seems the task was a bit harder than she'd anticipated."_

"Mmm hmm," he said, not looking at me in the eye. Instead he turned to Violet. "Violet, I need to have a word with you. I'm afraid it's bad news…and rather pressing."

She paled, like she knew what was coming. Rubbing her cheeks as though attempting to put some colour back in them, she turned to me. "Lewis, could you please start taking the flowers to the church. It's just round the corner."

"Uh…sure. No Problem," I nodded politely at the reverend before picking up a crate of the bouquets."

…………..

_After depositing the flowers outside the church door I made my way back to the florist for the second crate. I gingerly approached the door, worried that the reverend might still be there. Instead I found Violet, sitting on the floor, tears running down her cheeks. Instantly, I was at her side. _

"_What's wrong?" I asked, fumbling in my pocket for a tissue to give her._

"_It's Gerald," she said, wiping at her tears as I handed her a tissue. "His father got a telegraph from the RAF today. He's been declared officially Missing in Action."  
_

_She broke down in my arms._

……………………………………

**1990- Nixon Mansion**

"Poor Grandma," Emily said, looking down. "But it must have been what she assumed all along.

Lewis nodded, stifling a yawn.

"Tired, Lewis?" She asked, picking up her handbag from the floor and putting it on her lap. "I should get going anyway. I feel quite drained myself."

"Shall we pick this up tomorrow?" He asked.

"Yes, please," She smiled eagerly. "If you don't have plans, that is."

"No, no, I'm free all day," He reassured her. "Grace has her bridge club tomorrow."

"Okay," she said, standing up and kissing him on the cheek. "See you tomorrow."

……………………….

Back at the hotel, she paused outside of the door, placing a hand nervously against the doorframe. She knew Jack was inside, waiting. She also knew that she was emotionally exhausted from everything and vulnerable, and the way she felt about him…she didn't trust herself. Gingerly, she opened the lock and went inside.

"Em, is that you?" his voice rang out from the bathroom. Suddenly he appeared, fresh from the shower wearing nothing but a towel. "I hope you don't mind, but I took a shower."

"No that's…fine," she said, setting her bag down on the bed and looking at his naked torso. God, she was _so_ attracted to him. Nothing had changed since she'd returned to the States…she still wanted him. And the next thing she knew she was on him…leading him over to the bed….

…………………………

_Ring, Ring_

The sound of the sharp, hotel ringtone piercing the air woke her from her slumber. Groaning, she disentangled herself from her lover, reached across and picked up the receiver.

"Hello," She said groggily into it.

"Sweetie?" Mark's voice sounded out the reply. "Is that you?"

"Uh…yeah," she said, looking over at a sleeping Jack and feeling instantly guilty. "How are you, Sweetie?"

"Am I catching you at a bad time?" he asked, concerned. "Were you sleeping?"

"I was, yeah," she closed her eyes and rubbing her right temple with her free hand. "I was with Lewis Nixon all day, so I was really tired when I got back."

"Oh…okay," He said, sighing. "Well I'll let you get some sleep and I'll call back in the morning."

"Okay…," she didn't know what else to say.

"I love you," He said, as if unsure of what her response would be.

"I…love you," she said, looking back at Jack to find he'd woken up and was making eye contact with her. When he saw her say those three words into the phone, he looked down.

Dejected, she hung up the receiver. Sighing, she put her head back down on the pillow, staring into his eyes. "What are we going to do, Jack?"

He bit his lower lip, reached out and placed his hand over hers, looking into her eyes searchingly. "The question is, Emily…what are _you_ going to do?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Lewis Nixon's Young Lady Chapter 5**

………………………………………….

NB- Typo in the last chapter. _1994 _in Aldbourne should've read _1944_.

**1992- Nixon Mansion**

The maid opened the door to the sunlit sitting room, ushering Emily inside. She turned to leave, throwing the words over her shoulder. "Mr. Nixon will be with you shortly."

"Thank you," Emily replied, absent-mindedly, looking around the room, at the walls which bore the remnants of a life's worth of travel. She'd seen it several times now, but it never failed to amaze her. She couldn't imagine the adventures that Lewis and Grace had been on together. She'd only known him a few days, but, as much as she had loved her own grandfather, she couldn't help but think that Lewis would've made a most wonderful grandfather, had the story turned out differently, of course. _Still_, she thought as she wandered over to a black and white picture of Lewis and Grace, some twenty years younger, on a lush piece of greenery, bearing rifles and huge grins, _I think things worked out for the best_. She could see why he was so in love with Grace. She was a beautiful woman even back then, and she'd carried it forward into her golden years.

So mesmerised in the photograph was she that she barely heard Lewis cough in an attempt to alert his presence as he shuffled into the room. "Seen something you like?"

She whirled around, slightly embarrassed to be caught so unawares. She motioned her head towards the photograph. "I was just looking at this one. Why are you holding rifles."

"Kenya," He told her, motioning towards the mounted rhinoceros head on the wall. "…and that's why."

She couldn't help but gasp. "You killed that?"

"Combined effort," He said, almost amused her contorted facial features. "Not one of those animal lovers are you."

"Only in a girly sort of way, I suppose. I'm impressed though, I must say," She said, leaning forward to welcome him with a slight kiss on the cheek, deeming that it wouldn't be inappropriate. "Good Morning, Lewis."

"Morning, my dear," He smiled back at her, taking a long, deep breath. "Well now, can I have something to eat fixed for you?"

She politely shook her head. "I ate at the hotel this morning, besides I feel like I've done nothing but eat you and Grace out of house and home since I got here."

"Nonsense," Lewis joked. "You'd have to eat a hell of a lot more to eat us out of _this_ home."

"That's true, I suppose," She laughed, realising that the house _was_ around thirty rooms large.

"Well then," He held out an arm to her. "Join an old man in a walk?"

"I'd be delighted to," She beamed, taking his arm. "Are there any parks nearby?"

"Parks? Goodness, my old legs won't take me that far," He chuckled. "Luckily, I have enough grassy land big enough to be a park right in my own backyard."

………………………..

Arm-in-arm, they walked together amongst the trees, assorted flowers and magnificent topiary of the Nixon's back garden. Emily imagined that they must have to employ a troupe of gardeners for the daily upkeep.

"Lewis," She clucked her tongue, pointing to a particular group of flowers nearby. "Are those Sweetbrier?"

"Perhaps they are," his eyes twinkled mischievously. "You see, my dear, there are aspects of all of the loves of your life which will never leave you. Don't tell Gracie, but your grandmother was my inspiration for this garden. She was so passionate about flowers and greenery that, naturally, some of it rubbed off onto me."

"That's so romantic," She said, looking at a oak bench nearby. "Shall we sit in the shade for a bit?"

He followed her, taking a seat gently next to her. "So my dear, when is the wedding, if I may ask."

Her heart thumped briefly. She'd forgotten entirely that she'd hinted to her engagement. She bit her lips, her hands resting awkwardly on her knees. "Supposed to be in three months."

"Supposed to be?" He asked, eyes raised.

"In three months," She repeated almost tersely.

"Very soon," He mused. "I'll bet that you cant wait."

She simply nodded in agreement, still biting at her lip.

"What is he like, then? Your fiancé, I mean," Lewis probed. "Forgive me if it's too personal to ask, but seeing as I've being pouring out all of my deepest memories over the past few days."

"It's alright, you're perfectly entitled to ask," She reassured him, clearing her throat anxiously. "His name is Mark, and we've been together for around five years now. We met at Columbia when we were just two, broke students…and now he's a high-flying banker in New York City."

"Sounds like he can take care of you, then," Lewis said, noticing how unemotionally she'd just said those words. He pointed down to her ringless finger. "So why hasn't Mr Moneybags bought you a big sparkler for that finger?"

"Oh," She said, quickly covering it with her other hand. "He has. I just…I just forgot to put it on today, that's all."

_And every other day since you've come here_, Lewis thought to himself but didn't say out loud. He could tell that this girl was troubled somehow, by a romantic matter. He felt that he knew because the pain in her eyes mirrored that which he'd seen in Violet's eyes many decades ago. Still, he could sense that she wasn't comfortable talking about it and didn't want to push her to. He clapped his hands together enthusiastically, changing the subject. "Well, I wont keep you in suspense any longer. Where did we leave off?"

Her eyes lit up, getting back to the story at hand. "You'd both fallen asleep in the flower shop and were woken up hastily with the news that my grandmother's fiancé had been declared Missing in Action."

"Oh yes," Lewis said, looking into the distance dreamily as the memories came flooding back to him. He opened his mouth to speak…

……………….

_**July 18**__**th**__**, 1944**_**- **_**Aldbourne **_

_Despite being July and having had been sunny for the past few weeks, rain suddenly, and in a burst of impeccable sarcasm, might I add, descended down onto Aldbourne. Heavy, thick droplets that turned the streets to rivers and the walls and windows into water features. Unfortunately, deadlines kept me inside doing paperwork all day of the 17__th__, so I hadn't been able to seek out Violet. She never left my thoughts, though. I couldn't stop thinking about what a sobbing, wreck she'd been when I'd left her two nights previously. It had been THE moment,, the catalystic element that causes the pain that one has been guarding inside themselves for months to burst out onto the exterior. I know, I know, you'd think that, being besotted with her, I would've been happy in some sick way that she was further to being single. Alas no, seeing her in so much pain had near-broken my glass heart. I wanted to know that she was alright, no, I __**had**__to know. As such, on the 18__th__, when I finally went off-duty, I found myself zipping out into the rain towards the Generous General. I might've been kept inside doing paperwork, but word of mouth had gotten around about how the mood in the whole town had dropped since the bombshell, so valued were Gerald's family in Aldbourne. The fun-loving flyboys of the regiment had even cooled their shenanigans around town and amongst their host families in respect of the grieving residents. Pushing open the door into the pub, I got my first taste of what they'd been talking about. The normally lively pub was reduced to hushed conversations and whispers, the dart board closed for business. Shaking the water off of my uniform and nodding politely to a couple of soldiers who nodded respectfully in my direction, I scanned the pub, not seeing who I was looking for, but spotting Harold standing behind the bar, reading the newspaper absent-mindedly. I walked over to him. "Evening."_

He looked up, pushing his paper aside as he saw me. "Oh, hello Lewis."

"Harold," I nodded at him.

"VAT 69?" He asked, sighing as he looked around his pub, the atmosphere dead.

"_Please," I nodded, placing a hand square onto the counter of the heavy, wooden bar. I swallowed. "So…she alright?"_

"Violet?" He asked, casting a look back at me as he pulled the bottle down from one of the shelves. "Couldn't tell you, lad. Haven't seen hide nor hair of her since the news broke out."

He set the glass down in front of me, which I took and drunk in one, quick gulp. "Well, my heart goes out to her."

Harold merely grunted in response, deftly picking up the glass. "Same again?"

"No thanks," I shook my head, throwing some coins onto the counter. "I should be moving on. My sympathies again to all of the family."

……………

_Rain pounding down on top of me, I walked through the streets of Aldbourne. My watch told me that it was verging towards 9.30 p.m. I was probably too late to catch her anywhere now. Without really meaning to, I somehow found myself wandering up towards the florist. I blinked. The lights were still on. I wondered…why would the lights still be on. My intrigue got the better of me, and in a few, small steps I found myself outside of the door. I raised my hand to knock, but paused. Maybe she wanted to be alone. Still, I couldn't help myself, and rapped sharply on the door._

"_We're closed!" came the gruff response._

"_I just wanted to see if you were okay," I called out tentatively._

_Silence, and then I heard the knob twiddling. I waited with anticipation as it opened…but jumped slightly when I saw that it wasn't Violet, it was her boss. The small, less fair of face woman. She shook her head as she looked at me, dripping with water. "Well now, look at the state of you."_

"Why thank you," I said, dryly.

"_What are you doing here?" She asked, eyeing my suspiciously._

"_I just…," I stopped, feeling very stupid all of a sudden under the watchful eye of her gaze. "I just came to see if she was alright."_

She put a hand on her hip. "Do you really think that's a good idea, son?"

"Probably not," I shook my head, trying to charm her with a smile. "But I just want to give her my condolences."

My eyes raised, a spark going off in my head. I took a step forward, trying to get a look behind into the shop. "So she's here…?"

"I didn't say that," She took a defensive step backwards. "Let the girl alone. She's hurting."

"_She's staying at the shop?" I pressed, still trying to look behind her._

"_No," She said, blocking my view. "My flat is above the shop. Now I don't know what you're planning…"_

"I have no bad intentions," I tried to reassure her. "I just want to give her my sympathies. Come on, help me out here, you've done it before."

"I know I have, now you do me a favour and leave well enough alone," She said, a warning look in her eye. "But, I'll tell you what. I'll pass along your sympathies."

I smiled again, producing a packet of cigarettes from my pocket and holding them up. For a second a look of desire passed across her face and she uttered, Mercy. Then, her face clouded over with a look of steely resolve. She firmly shook her head, shutting the door in my face. "No!"

"Awww, come on!" I sighed, looking down, water dripping off of my face.

_Silence again, then I heard the lock turning again. My heart leapt for a moment and she reappeared. I smiled at her. "Now then, I knew you'd change your mind."_

In one swift movement, she reached out, grabbing the cigarettes from my hand, before promptly shutting the door again.

"Awww, what the…," I shook my head, exasperated, banging on the door once gently with my fist 

_I heard her cackling from within the shop as she made her way upstairs, the lights suddenly going out. Alone in the rain, dejected, I stepped away from the door and back onto the street. I cast a glance upwards of the flower shop. I hadn't known that there had been an apartment above it. It wasn't immediately obvious but then, suddenly, the sight of curtains twitching…and suddenly she was standing at the window, looking down at me. Violet, her face swollen and red from crying. She looked tired. I just looked at her, my heart in my throat, not really knowing what to do. I didn't have to make any first moves though, as she raised a hand and waved gently at me, mustering a small smile. I nodded politely back, hoping she would be able to deduce that I was sending her sympathy. It only lasted a moment, as she closed the curtains again, and I stood alone on the street, rain continue to pour down on top of me. It was enough though and I made my way back to the barracks, satisfied. _

……………….

**1992- Nixon Mansion**

"Poor grandma," Emily looked down, her arms wrapped around herself as the evening chill had begun to set in. "What a weight for her to carry, the grief of a whole town. I can't even imagine…."

"I saw it in her eyes that night," He nodded, frowning. "So sad."

"Still, It was nice that you went to see her," She nodded. "I'm starting to see that genuine feeling seeping through in this story."

"Hey," He joked. "It had to sometime, I suppose."

"True,"

"Now then," He said, shivering a little and offering her his arm again. "Shall we continue this inside? It's cold for an old man like me."

………………….

_**July 20**__**th**__**, 1944- Aldbourne**_

_Two days later, I found myself back at the flower shop. She hadn't been to the Generous General (trust me, I'd sat in there drinking a __**lot**__ of VAT 69 waiting for her), so I could only deduce that she was still in hiding. So, I decided to take my chances on charming her boss to let me see her. As I neared the door, I straightened my uniform, giving a polite smile to the elder lady customer leaving. She offered me a scowl in response, making me frown in confusion as I watched her walk by. Shaking my head, I stepped tentatively inside. I stopped in my tracks, seeing Violet standing behind the cash register, wiping the counter with a damp cloth. She looked a little better, her eyes weren't as swollen and red as they'd been a few nights previously, but she still looked tired. Beautiful nonetheless. As I pushed the door further open, I activated the small alert bell placed above it. She looked up, her hand stopping the wiping motion as she saw me. Tentatively, I walked up to her, suddenly unable to find my voice. "…um, how are you?"_

"I'm fine, thank you Lewis," She said, smiling at me, her hand still gripping the cloth on the counter. She looked past me at the other customer in the shop, who was peeking at us out of the corner of her eye. "And yourself?"

"I'm alright," I said, looking into her eyes searchingly. "I was just worried about you."

"Well, I'm fine thank you," She said, composing herself and asking me loudly enough for the other customer to hear. "Can I help you with something, Lewis?"

The customer made her leaving, waving Violet goodbye as she went. Suddenly, we were alone. I looked back at her, almost amused. "What was that about?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Gerald's father says that I shouldn't be seen with you, that people are already talking, especially with what's just happened."

"Oh," I said, biting my lip. "Well, there's nothing for anyone to gossip about."

"Well," she shrugged again, looking down. "You know how people talk."

"I suppose," I sighed, putting my hand on the counter, near to hers.. 

_  
"But," She spoke up, looking gratefully into my eyes for a moment. "But I was very…happy, to see you here the other night. It meant a lot to me that you came, Lewis."_

"Well," I said, coming over all boyishly timid. "Like I said, I was just worried about you."

"I know," She nodded. "I…I didn't know how much the truth would hurt. When nothing was official I could just put it to the back of my mind, but now…."

"Hey," I said reassuringly. "Missing isn't dead, just remember that."

She nodded, taking a deep breath, her eyes welling up.

_Without thinking, I reached out, placing my hand gently over hers and giving it a gentle squeeze. I almost felt electricity shoot up my arm. She flinched at first but then relaxed, letting it lie on top of hers._

"If you need to talk," I said, stroking her hand gently. "About anything at all. I'm here. You know where to find me."

"In the Generous General drinking VAT 69?" She joked.

"_Exactly," I smiled, rolling my eyes at her._

…………………………….

**1992- Nixon Mansion**

The sound of Emily's mobile phone ringing interrupted Lewis' story. Alarmed, she reached down into her handbag to pull it out. "I'm so sorry to interrupt, Lewis."

"No," He shook his head. "Answer it, it's fine."

She pulled up the Arial. "Hello. Oh, hi. Sorry, I lost track of time. Sorry, I didn't mean to leave you so long. I'm on my way now, around twenty minutes. Bye."

"Your rich banker shown up to whisk you off to dinner?" Lewis teased, his eyes twinkling.

"No, no," She shook her head, gathering up her belongings. "Just a friend of mine."

"That same _good_ friend who called you the other day?" He asked, his eyes twinkling knowingly.

"Lewis," She shot him a playful warning look. "I'm so sorry, I have to make tracks."

"Make tracks," he repeated fondly. "You're grandmother used that expression once."

Emily smiled, slipping her jacket around her shoulders. "Like grandmother like daughter. I tell you what, why don't you let _me_ take you out to lunch tomorrow?"

"That would be delight-…oh wait, no," He shook his head. "Sorry, Grace and I are hosting a party tomorrow. She's taking me out shopping for a new tuxedo."

"Sounds fun," She teased.

"I wish," He rolled his eyes, walking her down to the front door. "Why don't you come to the party tomorrow? Grace told me to ask you, actually. She'd love to introduce you to our friends."

"If you're sure you I wouldn't be intruding?"

"The more the merrier, Sweetheart," He said, giving her a goodbye kiss on the cheek. "Feel free to bring your _friend_."

…………………………..

Opening the door the hotel room, she saw Jack curled up in one of the chairs, absent-mindedly watching television. He sprang to his feet when he saw her.

"Were you falling asleep?" She teased, playfully punching him on the arm as she dropped her handbag on the bed.

"Very funny," He shook his head, smiling. "Good day?"

"Very productive," She nodded. "Sorry I left you so long."

"No, I had a great day," He shook his head, his eyes lighting up. "I went out to see some of the sights."

"Verdict?" She asked, cocking her head to one side.

"Bit busy for my liking," He shivered jokingly. "But pretty nonetheless. Erm…the phone rang a couple of times today. I didn't answer it but I think that it was…."

"Oh," She cut him off, her shoulders sagging. She felt so exhausted. "I can't deal with him right now…I feel so guilty."

"Hey, hey," He said, putting his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Don't let your head get weighed down at the moment. Let's keep it light. Why don't we go out and have dinner or something."

……………………….

Emily burst out laughing, choking slightly on her pasta. "I can't believe that you still remember that!"

"How could I forget?" Jack laughed along with her, his brown eyes twinkling in amusement. "Being caught stealing the bloomers from the washing line of the oldest woman in the village? _Why_ did you dare me to do that again?"

"I didn't think you _would_ do it!" She continued to laugh uncontrollably, unaware of the attention they were garnering from the tables around them.

"I was eight years old!" he defended himself. "I had street cred to uphold!"

"Sure you did," She rolled her eyes. They smiled shyly at each other as their eyes locked in contact. She couldn't believe how she felt about him, like her stomach was flapping around with butterflies. As her laughter subsided, she put both of her hands on the table. "Jack…why now?"

"Come again?" He swallowed deeply, taking a sip of his wine.

"Why did this have to happen now?"

"Well," He clucked his tongue, thinking. "We can't really control these things, can we?"

"Perhaps not," She looked down at the candle in the table between them. "But I just don't understand. Why did you follow me to America _now_ and not all of those years ago when I left to go to Columbia? I mean, you know I didn't want us to break up."

"You had such high aspirations for your life. You wanted to become the high-flying journalist in the big city," he said, quietly, looking down, humbled. "Whereas I knew what my life was going to entail, that I was gong to go into the family business. I couldn't do it to you, Em, I couldn't keep you on a short-leash like that, tying you down to Aldbourne like that. I had to let you fly, as it were."

"So then why now?"

"I said I couldn't ask you to stay for me, but I couldn't make myself stop loving you," He said, his cheeks reddening. "When you came back for your grandmother's funeral and I saw you again I was so happy. When we talked I knew that the chemistry was still there, then we ended up…you know. I just…I knew that I couldn't let you get away again. You just happen to be engaged now, which is a bit of a snag, I grant you."

"A big snag, Jack," She shook her head, deflated.

"Look, Emily," He said, putting his glass down on the table. "I'm not going to force you to make any decisions. All of this is entirely your choice, you know that. And if you tell me to bugger off back to England so that you can marry Mark, then I'll leave straight away. Whatever you decide."

She took a deep breath, putting a smile on her face as she took his hand. "Do you want to come to a party tomorrow?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Lewis Nixon's Young Lady Chapter 6**

……………………………………

**I know, I know, this has taken foreverrrrr to update, lol. I've just come to accept this story as my "slow cooker". I really love coming back to it periodically and updating it though. Hopefully the long updates aren't too frustrating and that you'll stick with it : ). Please let me know what you think**

……………………………………

"Well look at you," Emily clucked her tongue, impressed, as she deftly tied Jack's tie into a Windsor knot. "Who would've thought you'd scrub up so well."

"Pfft, you clearly haven't my wardrobe of late," Jack stood up for himself, smiling teasingly at her as he checked his cuff links. He looked down at the suit, teasing her. "It's nice, but I'd have preferred Armani."

"Armani!" She raised her eyes in surprise. "Come again?"

"What can I say?" He winked at her, admiring the job she'd done on his tie in the mirror. "Business is good."

"Still," She shook her head, pushing him towards the hotel room door. "I prefer you in your scruffy old jeans. Come on, let's go and get a taxi."

"Wait, wait, wait," He said, holding out a hand to stop her, taking a step back to admire her in the floor-length, blue, silk cocktail dress that she'd rented for the evening. "Beautiful."

"Why thank you," She winked, pulling him out of the door.

…………………………………

"Woow," Jack breathed, his eyes agog as he set eyes on the Nixon Mansion. "What…a…place."

"I told you," Emily laughed a little. She had to give it to the Nixons, the house looked even better than it usually did. Small torches dotted themselves up the entire length of the pathway, casting a golden glow over the soft sand-coloured building. White fairy lights hung like miniscule little stars in the leafy branches of the trees, giving the illusion that each and every guest was entering into a different world when they made their way through the heavy oak, stained glass doors. "Wait'll you see it inside."

Inside the doors, they were greeted by the sight of a horde of people milling around amongst a hubble and chatter and laughter. In the middle of it all, Lew and Grace, Lewis in his tuxedo and Grace frosted up with more jewellery than Emily had ever seen one person wear before, stood just by the door, greeting each and every guest as they came in. Their eyes lit up as they clocked eyes on the two youngsters walking in arm and arm, exchanging a knowing look to each other when Emily abruptly delinked arms with Jack when she noticed that they'd been spotted.

"Lewis, Grace," Emily greeted each of them, nodding politely. "This is my friend Jack. Jack, this is Lewis and Grace Nixon."

"So lovely to meet you, _Jack_," Grace said, elegantly outstretching a hand so that he might kiss it.

"I've heard a lot about both of you," He said, blushing slightly as he greeted them both, feeling Lewis' eyes boring into him.

"All good things, I hope," Lewis said, outstretching his hand, which Jack shook warmly.

"Of course," He nodded firmly, the corners of his mouth creasing in polite laughter.

A small silence descended over the four of them.

"Well," Grace piped up, clapping her hands together. "Why don't you two get on in there and enjoy the party? Just carry straight on into the ballroom."

"Ballroom?" Jack said, his eyes wide in surprise as Emily led him into the grand ballroom, brightly lit with an impossibly high ceiling, music already protruding from within.

"Of course there's a ballroom," Emily laughed as they both immersed themselves within the throng of partygoers.

………………………………

"Who knew you were such a dancer," Emily said, her eyes twinkling as Jack spun her effortlessly around the floor in time to the big band music being played by the musicians. Her eye caught sight of Grace sashaying next to them with a younger man who looked vaguely like her, a relative of some kind. She tried to get her attention. "This music is fabulous, Grace!"

"The music of our youth, darling, what more can I say," Grace replied, thanking her partner as the music came to an end. She turned back to the dancing Brits. "Say, Emily, you didn't mention what a dancer your friend was. Mind if I steal him for a dance?"

"Not at all," Emily said, putting a hand on Jack's back and pushing him gently towards Grace. "I'm parched anyway."

As the pair took their positions on the dance floor, Emily sidled to the edge. Enjoying the breeze coming from the open terrace doors behind her, she folded her arms and watched the pair gliding around the floor in amusement.

"Pssssst," A voice hissed from behind her.

She whirled around to see Lewis sitting out on the veranda behind her, a firm grasp on his cane. He beckoned for her to join him.

"Quite the party you Nixons throw," She complimented taking a seat on a plush, garden armchair opposite him as he motioned or her to do so.

"Pffft," He waved a hand at her. "Grace deserves all of the credit for this. She's the party planner, not me."

"So you don't enjoy these parties then?"

"Eeeh," He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not as much of a party man, not like I was in my younger years anyway."

"Oh, really?" Emily said, crossing her legs as she leaned forward with interest in her chair. "Quite the party animal, were you? I thought you just liked to sit in dank pubs drinking VAT 69?"

"Yes, well, there weren't a whole lot of parties happening at the time, you understand," He winked at her, relaxing back into his chair. A dreamy, faraway look settled over his face.

"No?" She asked, countering. "Then why do you look as if a certain party is exactly what you're thinking of?"

"I'd say you were a very inquisitive young lady," He complimented.

"Naturally," She joked.

"Well, there may not have been many parties, but it just so happens that the next time I saw your grandmother was at a party."

"Really?"

"Yes," He nodded. "Well, a party of sorts."

"Of sorts?" She asked, amused.

"Well, see…now how to I put this delicately? At that time, with all of those young men comin' over from the States in their droves…well, there was a lot of _fraternising_, shall we say," He explained gently.

"I get the picture," She laughed. "All of those young men and women."

He nodded. "Exactly. Well, as you can imagine this kinda thing caused some scandal in a town as small as Aldbourne. Since they couldn't stop it, the local church thought that the best way to deal with it was to use the church to host a Saturday evening dance, that way the "elders" could supervise and attempt to stamp out any illicit behaviour."

"Clever," She commented dryly.

"Exactly," He agreed. "Anyway, they were, I suppose, mostly intended for the younger, lower ranked men. I knew her fiancé's dad was big in the Church though, so I thought that she might be there."

"And she was…," Emily prompted.

"Well…," Lewis explained.

…………………………………………..

_**July 27**__**th**__**, 1944- Aldbourne, England.**_

_Walking into the church hall, I tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. There weren't too many other officers of my rank there and, since I'd been unable to convince Dick or Harry to tag along with me, I was very much flying solo that evening. I looked around in disdain. I couldn't help but sigh heavily as I looked at the miserable looking crêpe paper hanging off of every rafter that the high-ceilinged room had to offer. It was as tacky as every high school dance I'd ever been to in my life. Still, I looked around at the couples dancing with each other to the grainy record playing over the gramophone, I didn't suppose that they cared very much. Amidst the crowd I could see Violet, sporting a simple, pink, floral dress and loose hair hanging around her shoulders save for a few tendrils tucked behind her ears with bobby pins. I couldn't help but smile as I looked at her. How she could look so natural yet so beautiful all at the same time. She stood fast behind a fold-away table covered in a garish table cloth, ladling a cloudy white liquid from a punch bowl into paper cups. I walked gingerly towards her, unaware of how she'd react to seeing me after the revelation that Gerald's father felt that we shouldn't be seen together. Perhaps for a meeker man that might've been enough to make me walk away, but not me. It only made me want her more. Watching her standing behind that table, my feet led me forwards in her direction. I don't think I could've stayed away from her. She looked at me in surprise for a moment as she saw me approach then her facial expression changed into a warm smile. _

"_I didn't expect to see you here," I confessed as I stopped just opposite her. _

"_Speak for yourself," She said, amused. "Isn't this a little…below your station, a dance like this?"_

"What, are you kiddin me?" I asked, feigning offence. "No…you're absolutely right, it is."

She snorted laughter, asking innocently. "Why did you come here then?"

"_No reason," I replied, my facial expression conveying to her exactly why I'd come here that night._

"_Oh," She said, looking quickly back down into the punch bowl before darting her eyes nervously around the swinging dance hall. _

_I took a look around, myself. "Are we under surveillance here?"_

"This is Aldbourne's most prominent church," She looked at me jokingly yet with a wistfulness in her eyes. "What do you think?"

"Pity," He smiled. "I was thinking about asking you to dance."

"It's a nice idea," She smiled almost forlornly. "I'm not here to dance tonight, however."

"Are you on the payroll?"

"Payroll?" She quizzed, confused.

"_Are they payin' you to spoon out lemonade into cups?"_

"Of course not," She rolled her eyes.

"_Then who gives a damn," I teased, offering a hand. "Dance with me?"_

"A most generous offer, but unfortunately I have to work," She said loud enough for nearby supervisors to hear. She lowered her voice and sent a genuine look my way. "But I really would like to."

"Understood," I said, putting my hand down and taking a step back. 

_At this moment, a girl with flaxen hair and a devil red dress wandered over, putting a hand on the table and arching her body towards mine. She cast a look towards Violet. "Who's your friend, Vi? This the one that Gerald's father called a 'despicably moralled young fellow'?"_

"Oh, is that right?" I said, unable to stop myself from shooting a glare in the general direction of the elderly Minister. Sighing, I shrugged, making a joke out of the situation. "Well, I suppose he's not a million miles away from the truth."

"That was too much information, Charlotte," Violet sighed, rolling her eyes. "But yes, it is. Charlotte this is Captain Lewis Nixon. Lewis, this is my best friend, Charlotte."

"Nice to meet you," I nodded politely, taking her hand as she offered it and giving it a gentle shake.

"So, what? You can't take a telling when you were told to stay away from this one?" Charlotte teased, jerking her head towards Violet. 

"_What can I say?" I shrugged again. "I don't like being told what to do."_

"Seems to me you're in the wrong profession, then," Charlotte laughed. "Tell you what, Vi. Why don't I take this one outta your hair by dragging him off for a dance?"

"By all means," Violet said, smiling. "Lewis was just saying that he wanted to dance. Charlotte loves a dance, Lewis."

"Wait, I said I wanted to dance with…," I looked at Violet imploringly.

"What? Afraid I'll make a show of you on the dance floor?" Charlotte challenged, grabbing my arm and propelling me towards the dance floor. Ignoring the sniggers of my subordinates around me, I cast a pleading look back to Violet, as if begging her to come rescue me. She just burst out laughing, making a shooing motion with her hands. 

_Trapped amidst a throng of bodies on the dance floor, Charlotte coerced me into an energetic swing dance. I resisted at first but figured what the hell, at least it would show Violet, who I was sure would be watching from the sidelines, what a fun guy I was. _

…………………………………

"Great Auntie Charlotte," Emily shook her head disbelievingly.

"_Auntie_ Charlotte?" Lewis asked, arching a brow. "You knew her?"

"She was always Grandma's best friend, right up to her death," Emily said, smiling. "They've always been partners in crime, as gramps called them."

"It always surprised me," Lewis commented honestly. "I don't think I've ever met two women who were so…."

"Chalk and cheese?" Emily finished. "I know, I know. Charlotte always said that's what made them such good friends, that they were so different. It was Charlotte who really picked her back up after gramps died."

Lewis grew quiet, as though he'd just been struck by a memory. "Anyway, shall I continue?"

"Please do,"

…………………………………..

_I'd really given it all in that dance and, if I'm honest, it was actually really fun. I didn't even care that the other men in the company around me would get real mileage out of telling the story as jokes to their buddies. Still, I couldn't help myself from taking a sneaky look back over to the refreshment table to see if Violet was looking at me. I blinked when I noticed that she wasn't there. My eyes darted around, and out of the corner of one eye I saw her slipping in behind a deep velvet curtain. I frowned, wondering where she was going. Acting fast, I grabbed Bill Guarnere who was dancing nearby and pushed him into gently into Charlotte's arms to take my place. He didn't seem to mind all that much, in fact I'd go so far as to say that he was entirely grateful. I looked over at Gerald's father as I made my way through the throng of dancers, making sure that he wasn't keeping tabs on my whereabouts. Satisfied that I wasn't being watched, I slipped behind the velvet curtain. Concealed, I noticed that the curtain had been covering a door. Curious, I pushed it open quietly and walked out into what seemed like a tiny patch of garden. There appeared to be some vegetables growing in the grass. Looking over, I saw Violet sitting cross-legged on a stone bench next to the patch of vegetables. She offered me a smile, her sad eyes glaringly obvious, as I approached._

_  
"What is this?" I asked, indicating around me._

"Victory garden," She explained nonchalantly. 

"_Come again?"_

"The government encourages us to grow our own vegetables during wartime so that we can feed ourselves better in spite of the rationing," She explained, fidgeting further in her seat.

"_I see," I said, not really interested in the garden if I was honest, more in the fact that she and I were there at that moment…and we were alone. "Mind if I sit?"_

"At a respectable distance," She nodded, motioning to the opposite end of the bench.

_  
"Are they watching us here, too?" I asked, mock gasping as I put a hand to my mouth._

_She shook her head. "Out of politeness more than anything. No, we're not being watched out here."_

"Sure about that?"

"I know this churchyard like the back of my hand and I don't think that anyone knows that there is a door behind that curtain. In the many years that I've been coming to this church, I've never seen anyone in this patch of grass. That's why I planted my garden here."

"Clever," I commented, taking a seat at the opposite end of the bench. "Was the atmosphere in there too much for ya?"

"Something like that," She bit her lip. "Everyone looks so happy."

"You don't need to wallow, Violet," I said, unable to stop myself from saying what I really felt. "War's depressing enough as it is. Why shouldn't you have a little fun where you can find it."

"Because it's not what's expected of me," She said, shaking her head softy from side to side as she looked down at her feet.

"I know that you miss him," I said, the words grating on me as they came from my mouth. "But you have to get on as best as you can. Wallowing doesn't do anyone any good."

"That's why you plough your way through umpteen glasses of VAT 69 every night is it?" She said, challenging me.

_I looked at her with surprise. I was surprised that her comment hadn't angered the hell out of me. On the contrary, I found her honesty refreshing and her ballsiness underneath the humble exterior that she showed to be extremely attractive. "I'll have you know that I haven't been to the Generous General since the last time that I saw you."_

"Oh, really?" She said, flushing slightly. "I'm sorry, Lewis."

"Don't worry about it," I waved a hand dismissively at her. 

"_Did you enjoy your dance?" She asked, sending an amicable smile my way._

_  
"Your friend is quite the livewire," I laughed. "I left her in the company of an excited paratrooper."_

"She'll be thrilled," Violet laughed, a momentary twinkle of happiness emerging in her eyes.

"_It's good to see that," I said out loud._

_  
"What?"_

"A little happiness in those beautiful eyes," I bit my lip, aware that my statement had been extremely corny.

_Upon saying this, her eyes quickly resumed their sadness and she put her head into her hands, emitting a groan. Instinctively, I sidled further down the bench, closing the gap between us and, pausing a moment before doing so, tentatively put an arm around her shoulders. She flinched a little at first and I felt sure that she was going to tell me to go to hell. To my surprise, she relaxed into my touch, sinking her head into the crook of my neck and sighing as she closed her eyes._

"That feels nice," She sighed peacefully.

"_I'm glad," I said quietly, something stirring inside of me. _

"_You know," She said hazily, her eyes still closed. "The real reason that I came out here was…"_

"Was…?" I pressed.

"_I was watching you dance with Charlotte," She said, biting a lip as she opened her eyes to stare searchingly into mine. "…and I couldn't help but feeling entirely jealous."_

"That so?" I said, unable to stop a smile from forming on my face. 

"_Does that make me a bad person?" She asked, looking for me to reassure her. _

"_Of course not," I shook my head, unable to tear my eyes from hers._

_She sighed again, blinking. "I'm so tired of feeling this dull, aching pain, Lewis."_

"How can I help?" I asked, stroking her shoulder gently with the hand that I had placed tenderly around her shoulders. 

_She looked at me for the first time that I'd noticed with desire in her eyes. She licked her lips, leaning gently into towards my face. I knew what she wanted, and I was more than happy to give it to her. I leaned down and, basked in the moonlight of a warm July night, kissed her gently yet urgently, my fingers finding their way into her hair as I held her face to mine. _

………………………………………………_._

Emily felt herself growing stonily quiet as Lewis took a pause in his storytelling. He noticed it.

"Are you alright?" He asked, concerned.

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She cleared her throat. "I…I don't know. I'm having odd feelings."

"What kind of feelings?"

She shrugged. "When you tell me the story like that and what happened between you and grandma. I don't know. I feel like I should be angry with both of you for doing that to gramps."

"Of course you should," Lewis fidgeted in his chair. "Your grandfather was missing in action after fighting for his country and there I am, kissing his wife when I had a wife of my own back home."

"Exactly," She nodded. "When you put it like that, I feel like I should be so angry."

"You can't think of it like that, my dear," He shook his head. "It was a different time back then. You can't understand unless you lived through it."

"Then try to explain it to me," She pleaded.

He swallowed hard. "No one had ever known the world like it was back then. Everyone had been comfortable in their lives until the war hit, then the upheaval that it caused indescribable. People moving out, new people coming in…miles away from home. You didn't know whether you were coming or going, whether you might be dead the next day. The only constant was that, despite how displaced you might've been, people still needed to be loved, to be shown affection. Did you know that during the war nearly a fifth of Americans were separated from loved ones. That's a hell of a lot of people, Emily. You can't imagine that scale of infidelity that happened overseas during the war."

"Are you defending infidelity, Lewis?" She asked, feeling a little anger in her voice, which she knew was coming entirely from her guilt at her own predicament.

"Of course not. Those were just exceptional circumstances," He retorted, looking over her shoulder as he sharply reminded her. "Look, your _gentleman friend_ appears to be looking for you."

She spun her head round to see Jack walking around inside the ballroom, searching for her. She craned her neck back round to look at Lewis. His expression told her everything she needed to know. She gasped. Of course he'd known from the minute that she brought Jack to their house what was going on between them. She felt embarrassed as she looked down at the ground. "I'm so sorry. Is it very obvious?"

"Don't apologise to me," He shook his head. "I'm in no position to preach now, am I?"

"I suppose not," She said, letting out a little laugh.

"And no, it's not very obvious to anyone who hasn't had first hand experience of it themselves," He reassured her. He leaned forward in his chair. "I see now why you wanted to know my story, Emily. I see that the conflicts your grandmother went through mirror your own. I can only hope that what I tell you will help you come to some kind of decision."

"I hope so to," She said, folding her hands on her lap. "I really hope so."

……………………………….

The next day, in an office within a bustling bank in New York, Mark sat behind his desk, leaning back in his chair and letting out a low, frustrated sigh. He had a stack of paperwork sitting in front of him on his desk but no desire to do any of it. Thoughts of Emily tugged on his brain. He sensed that all was not well and that he had to be with his fiancée. Leaning forward, he picked up his phone and buzzed through to his secretary. "Hello, Sharon?"

"What can I do for you, Sir?" her voice came through the television.

"Can you get in touch with my travel agent, please?" He asked. "I need a one-way ticket to Los Angeles."

"Leaving when, Sir?"

"As soon as possible,"


End file.
